


FanFiction

by Gem_Gem



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Additional information in notes, Amused Sherlock, Annoyed John, Attempt at humour, Awkward Kissing, Implied Slash, Kissing, M/M, Platonic Kissing, Poor John, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock finds fanfiction, Spoilers for other works of fiction, men kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 01:26:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5028343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock stumbles across a little fanfiction site and a whole bunch of stories about John and himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FanFiction

**Author's Note:**

> Clichéd , I know, but fun! There are a lot of these sorts of stories milling about and I really enjoy them.
> 
> My Muse will not allow me to concentrate on my other stories, but let me write this. Go figures.
> 
> Let me know what you think. I'm not sure about it being a chaptered story...it's just a silly one-shot thing at the moment.
> 
> Also, I feel like I have to state that in this other fanfiction stories are discussed, some at length (sort of), and others not so much. If you have not read these stories and do not want them spoiled, please go and read the stories first.
> 
> Here is a list of the stories mentioned (vaguely or otherwise):
> 
> \- ["The greatest secret of all"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2775698/chapters/6225104) by [TooManyChoices](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyChoices/pseuds/TooManyChoices)  
> \- ["Riptide Lover"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2312978/chapters/5090789) by [jinglebell](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jinglebell/pseuds/jinglebell)  
> \- ["Hunter and prey"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3430583/chapters/7518071) by [TooManyChoices](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyChoices/pseuds/TooManyChoices)  
> \- ["Alphas, Betas, Omegas: A Primer"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/403644/chapters/665489) by [norabombay](http://archiveofourown.org/users/norabombay/pseuds/norabombay)  
> (not an actual story but so worth a read!)  
> \- ["Desperation"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4668578/chapters/10653566) by [KittieHill](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/pseuds/KittieHill)  
> \- ["The Great Sex Olympics of 221B"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/477669/chapters/829206) by [XistentialAngst](http://archiveofourown.org/users/XistentialAngst/pseuds/XistentialAngst)
> 
> I don't think I ruin too much of anything but, just to be on the safe side (and to promote all that glorious writing).

“John,” Sherlock said one afternoon after spending most of the morning on his laptop, his mouth quirked in amusement and his eyes glued to his computer screen as he shifted on his chair, sprawling his legs out further with a rumbling chuckle. “John…I found the porn.”

John blinked at him and then frowned, licking his lips and turning his attention from the TV, “I’m sorry—what?”

“Porn,” Sherlock repeated, his fingers typing and moving deftly. “Stories, images, drawings; all about us. All very pornographic.” 

“Jesus,” John sighed and rubbed his face, leaning his elbow on the armrest of his chair. “Well, I can’t say I’m completely surprised by that. You know how the Internet is. How people are in general. I mean, just last week someone came up to me and--”

“Hm. Riveting—I have wings in this one,” Sherlock murmured and pressed his fingers together under his chin as he read, his eyes shifting rapid and smooth. 

John sat back and crossed his ankles, “Wings?”

“Mm. Wings.” Sherlock replied. “Apparently I was able to hide this fact from you somehow, which I hardly think is logical given the wing span that would be needed to lift me off the ground. Then there is the skeleton; obviously it would be vastly different from a human skeleton. The main differences would probably include; a modified scapulae to harbour the wing bones, so the wings are not directly on top of the shoulders, just slightly below; an extended sternum for extra muscle; rib-barbs; the skull size would be a lot smaller; and there are different birds with different bone proportions in their wings, that would need to be taken into account. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” John muttered with amusement.

“Of course, this is all theoretical.” Sherlock went on as his eyes scanned the story before him. “And the muscles, the tendons, they’d all be different. I’d have stronger pectoral muscles, as I’d need to support the wings and pull them down, control them—actually, I’d have two sets of pectoral muscles, wouldn’t I? And my shoulders would be broader. Abdominal muscle definition would be more visible. Back muscles would have to be stronger, thicker. And glutes and leg muscles would need to be quite strong in order for a vertical take off. How I’ve been able to hide all this without your knowledge is a feat even for—oh. Never mind. They materialise and dematerialise at my will.”

John nodded and chuckled, “Of course they do. Magical disappearing and reappearing wings, all perfectly reasonable.”

“That’s close to what the author has you say,” Sherlock told him with a huge bout of hilarity as he scrolled and scanned through the rest of the story quickly. “Hm.”

“What? What’s the “hm” for?” John asked.

“When I bring my wings out it has the dizzyingly effect of intense sexual arousal.”

John looked skyward in amusement, “But of course.”

“Mm. And the sex in this story is very detailed,” Sherlock commented as he leaned forward with a look of consideration, his brows bunching and then arching as he read on. “Not sure that would actually—Oh. No. It would. Be tricky though. Good thing I’m flexible, I suppose.”

“Oh God…” 

Sherlock’s mouth twisted into an uneven but genuine smile suddenly, “You are really enjoying yourself with my feathers in this, John—”

John sighed through his nose loudly and clenched his eyes with a grimace, “All right. Enough. Move on. Read something else.” He muttered, gesturing at Sherlock in the next moment. “And could you not talk as if it’s an actual thing. As if it happened and we’re looking back and adding nostalgic anecdotes to some “happy” memories?” 

“Touching my wings is very pleasurable for me as well. Erogenous zone, definitely,” Sherlock said after a few seconds of silence, tilting his head as he scrolled and read, shifting in his seat with a chuckle. “Quite a number of people think you say the endearment “love” a lot. Do you? I’m not entirely sure I’ve heard you say it before…”

John blinked and frowned, rubbing a temple with his index finger and middle finger, “I wouldn’t know. I don’t keep tabs on the endearments I say, Sherlock—How would they even come to that conclusion, anyway? They’ve never met me.”

“Seems like something a middle-aged woman would say,” Sherlock mumbled before he pitched his voice high and smooth, mimicking a middleclass woman with a straight spine and a tilted chin. ““Are you alright there, love?” “Come on, love.” “Are you doing well, love?” “Here, get this down you, love.” -- Certainly not something you’d call me, surely. I’m not anyone’s “love.””

John chuckled and lifted his brows in agreement, “Got that right. – God, you sounded just like Mrs Hudson, you know.”

“Do you think you’d be a top or a bottom in our relationship, John?”

“Why are you asking me this?” John grumbled and rubbed his entire hand across his closed eyes. “No. Don’t answer that. Please. Just…just stop reading smut about us, Sherlock.”

““Interspecies sex,”” Sherlock read aloud with a look of intrigue. “I’m a Merman in this one.”

John dropped his hand and stared, aghast, but morbidly interested, “And…I’m human?”

“Yes. A burly Sailor,” Sherlock smirked, peeking over at John after his eyes rapidly shifted across the words before him. “You go overboard and I’m interested enough to give you air for several seconds.”

“How do a merman and a human male have sex?” John asked aloud as his gaze drifted in thought. “Why would a human want to have sex with a fish?—The bottom half is the fish, yeah? So…how…why…how? What the bloody hell does a merman penis even look like?”

Sherlock, whom had been slowly dissolving into quiet but shoulder shaking giggles, shook his head and motioned to his laptop, “I’ve not read it all through yet. So far it’s very meticulous, and the merman anatomy is obviously extremely creative...”

John got up as Sherlock turned his laptop at an angle on his knee, and leaned over Sherlock’s shoulder, before seating himself on an armrest, “Let me see…” 

“You were perfectly all right with the story about me with wings, but when I have the lower body of a fish—”

“Skip to the part about the fish penis,” John told him and reached over to click through the chapters, scanning each page slowly as Sherlock sniggered. “What? I’m a doctor. I’m interested – the wing thing you explained, this though, this is almost impossible, right? Organs would be different, in both shape and position. How can it be both hot blooded and cold? Is it a mammal? How does it regulate its temperature? What part of the sea does it live in? How does it produce offspring? And why would it want to do anything with another male, and a human male at that?”

Sherlock leaned aside and watched John for a moment, “Don’t you mean “he” and “his”?” he murmured, fidgeting in impatience when John took too long to shift through the chapters. “For goodness sake, you read too slow, let me.”

“No, you know what? I don’t want to know. I think I’ve read enough,” John muttered and moved away awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Stop reading weird porn—how did you even find this site?”

“I read your “fan mail,”” Sherlock replied with a loose shrug. “Here’s one with me as a Vampire.”

“Too accurate,” John said under his breath with a faint flickering grin as he wandered to the kitchen and put on the kettle. “Pale skin, quick reflexes, those ethereal eyes…”

Sherlock snorted and crumpled his nose, “Ethereal?”

“Heightened senses, arrogant nature, the swishy thing you do with your coat...”

“How is that related to Vampires?”

John turned as the kettle boiled and pointed at him with a spoon, “If it weren’t for the fact that you actually do eat food every now and then, are strangely, almost unnaturally warm, I’d say you were a Vampire. I mean, there was that one time I found you actually tasting blood from tubes, which is still not good, Sherlock.”

“I told you, it was animal blood and I made sure it was fine to drink,” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

““Animal blood” and “fine to drink,” should not be put together.”

“People enjoy black pudding, that’s basically the same thing.”

John frowned, “No, it’s not.”

“Isn’t it generally made from pork blood?” Sherlock drawled with a lazy lift of one eyebrow.

“It’s not the same, Sherlock! You were drinking blood from a vial!” John exclaimed with a look of disgust, turning back to gather their mugs and adding teabags as the kettle clicked. “Earl Grey?”

“Yes,” Sherlock mumbled, his attention back on his laptop screen with a curling grin as he breezed through a few more stories. “Ah. This one is interesting -- If you found the merman sex fascinating—”

“No. No, I never said that.”

“—then you’re going to love this,” Sherlock said, oddly sinuous as he got to his feet and strolled to the kitchen table with his laptop. “The Omegaverse.”

“I’m afraid to ask…”

“Male pregnancy,” Sherlock clarified as he sat down with an unfurling and mischievous smirk. “Amongst other things.”

John turned and leaned against the kitchen counter, folding his arms, “Male pregnancy?”

“Yes.”

“A real pregnancy? With a baby?”

“Yes.” 

“Where does the—?”

“Apparently they are often labelled arse babies, for obvious reasons,” Sherlock said as he read, leaning on his elbows. “Or a C-section is performed like you would with a woman -- I wonder if there are any hand drawn diagrams…”

John brought Sherlock's tea over and sat down with him, pulling his chair around, “…Arse babies?”

“Technically, not that far off.”

John spluttered out a laugh, coughing on his first sip of tea, “Sherlock, for goodness sake, why are you still reading this stuff?”

“It’s…interesting,” Sherlock told him as he scrolled a few more.

“You’re bored, you mean.”

“Bingo,” Sherlock muttered, shaping out each syllable exaggeratingly. “Huh. Here’s one where I’ve never had an orgasm through masturbation, and you’re good enough to teach me. You’re such a good doctor, John. So, so good – You know just where to touch.”

John grimaced with a heated glare at Sherlock’s sarcastic and breathy tone, and rubbed his forehead, “You’re bored, so you check my mail, follow some random link to an erotic writing site, and read pornographic stories about you and me? – Sherlock, can’t you do something else? Are there no cases you’re interested in? No smelly and annoying experiments you want to perform?—How are you even reading some of these? They have a lock icon on them. Doesn’t that mean that they’re, you know, locked? What did you do? How are you able to read them? You didn’t hack in and fiddle around with the site, did you? I’ve told you to stop doing that!”

“I made a profile.” Sherlock answered as he took a gulp of tea. 

“…Of course you did.”

“Was thinking about writing my own little—”

“No! No, absolutely not!” John exclaimed, pulling the laptop aside. “Why would you even want to do that?”

“Why not?”

“Sherlock, we’re not an item!”

“It’s fiction, John,” Sherlock sighed, taking the laptop back. “And it would be fascinating to see how we might have been if we—”

John closed the laptop a little too roughly, “No.”

Sherlock scowled and then leaned on one elbow, running his gaze over John with an overly thoughtful expression, his mug of tea raised to his mouth, “Top.”

John blinked and frowned in confusion, “What?”

“You’d be the top in our sexual relationship.”

“Oh my God—stop.”

“Can’t you see it? You’re so aggressive and forceful,” Sherlock said with a purposeful ostentatious lisp and a tilt to his voice. He flicked his fringe back and crossed his legs in a flamboyant fashion, winking at John with a curve of his mouth. “But I love it.”

“Sherlock. Stop,” John told him, stifling the twitch of a smile as quickly as he could. 

“Ooo. Perhaps you should make me?” Sherlock continued, keeping in character as he leaned toward John and bit down on his lower lip. “I’ve been such a naughty boy.”

John, unimpressed, blinked slowly with a straight face, “I will punch you.”

“Kinky.”

“Sherlock!”

“You’re so feisty,” Sherlock smirked, wiggling his brows.

John raked a hand through his hair with a frustrated breath, “Sherlock, stop! This isn’t funny. We are not a couple and never will be a couple and so you are not writing us being a couple!”

“I’d probably let you, you know. “Have me”. At least once,” Sherlock murmured with an arched eyebrow and another one of his loose shrugs, dropping the act effortlessly, “Or we could switch—though I’m not as well-versed as you are so I don’t know how well I’d fare.”

“Excuse me? Well what? H-how am I well-versed? Well-versed in what, exactly?” John asked him with deep furrows in his forehead.

Sherlock’s mouth quirked and he looked aside with an expression of mock thought, “Well…”

John growled and pointed a finger at him, “No. There is no way that you know—” he cut himself off at Sherlock’s arrogant look and clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth before pursing his lips and lowering his voice. “That was one time and she…asked for me to do it.”

“One time?”

“All right, it was…the fourth time or something—it’s not the same!”

“Hm. Okay. Well, how about the fact that you check men’s prostates. Often. With precision. With talented doctor fingers.”

“That’s also different!—“Talented doctor fingers”? Are you hearing yourself?”

“How?”

John glanced around, perplexed. “What?”

“How is it different?” Sherlock said with a long and loud sigh.

“It’s not sexual!” John exclaimed, making Sherlock’s mouth bend on a snort of laughter. “This isn’t funny, Sherlock.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“No!”

“Mm--yeah. It is—You know, we argue faintly in a lot of the stories too. Then it leads to sex. Here, I’ll show you.”

John swatted Sherlock’s hand from the laptop when he reached for it, “Stop! You are not showing me anything, Sherlock! -- Look, no one is switching or…or doing anything remotely sexual! That includes writing. Delete your profile, Sherlock. No more erotic stories about us. Don’t read them or write them.”

“Can’t exactly see how you’re going to stop me, John,” Sherlock huffed as he uncrossed his legs and took another gulp of tea. “Why does it bother you so much? I thought everything was just “fine”?”

“I’m not comfortable knowing you, of all people, are writing erotic fiction about us. It’s weird. Weirder than…anything you’ve done, Sherlock,” John said with a deep exhale. “So far, at least—why would you want to write us in…that sort of situation, anyway? You honestly don’t see how weird that is?”

“Nope.”

“Of course not.” John muttered and turned to face Sherlock on his chair. “All right, think of it this way – pretend for a moment that it’s not us that they’re writing about but…but Mycroft and…and Lestrade!”

Sherlock jerked his head back with a look of horror, “Are you trying to make me unwell?”

John nodded and gestured with one hand, “It’s weird, right?” 

“That’s not the same,” Sherlock argued.

“Yes it is. It’s just as weird. They’re two real people who are in no way sexually attracted to one another. Reading things where they are is just…strange, but it’s stranger writing it yourself and…yes, okay, I did say everything is…fine, and mostly, it is, but not…not that stuff, not written by you,” John mumbled, covering his face. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

“It is in no way the same, John,” Sherlock told him and shook his head with a full body shudder. “Now. Let’s…never say such things concerning my brother and the Inspector again. Ever.”

“You’d rather write and read about what people think we look and sound like naked? Having weird…interspecies sex? And…and wing touching?”

“Yes. Definitely.” Sherlock answered without hesitation. “And kissing. They love writing about that. The kissing scenes can be very—”

John groaned and held up a hand, “Stop! I don’t want to know, Sherlock!”

“Mainly you’re the most experienced kisser out of the both of us,” Sherlock stated with a sideways glance at John in what looked like challenge. 

“…Don’t look at me like that.”

Sherlock blinked innocently, “Like what, John?”

“You know what, Sherlock! Like you’re going to…experiment or rope me into some sort of—No! No, I won’t kiss you.”

Sherlock’s eyes gleamed and he trailed a finger idly around the rim of his mug, “You know, there was one story where we go against one another, to see who is more of an expert on sex—”

John glared and pushed the laptop further away, “Don’t want to hear it.”

“Want to know who won?”

“No!”

“I think you do.”

John clenched his hand into a fist rhythmically, “I really don’t.”

“But it’s very intriguing—”

“No!” John said sternly, and increased his glower when Sherlock’s gaze dropped to his mouth with significance. “Sherlock, if you so much as put your face close to my face, I will hit you so hard—”

Sherlock chuckled and arched his head back and aside, “You are hilariously easy to get riled up, John.” He rumbled with entertainment. “If you were confident in your sexuality, kissing me wouldn’t be a problem.” 

“Oh, pull the other one! I’m not kissing you, Sherlock,” John said seriously, pushing Sherlock back by the shoulder, though it was unneeded. “Not even once. Not even for a second. Not even for a millisecond. Not even if our lives depended on it.”

“Liar.”

John scowled, “No.”

“You’ve given me mouth to mouth before,” Sherlock offered with a sweep of a hand, finishing off his tea.

John leaned heavily on the table with one arm, “Sherlock, mouth to mouth is not kissing.”

Sherlock determinedly put down his mug and shifted around to face John, slapping his thighs with a forced smile, “Give me mouth to mouth then.”

“What is wrong with you?—No! Why do you want me to kiss you?”

“I’m bored!” Sherlock exclaimed, throwing his hands up and clutching his hair, bouncing his feet. He scrubbed at his curls until they were overly mussed and wild, and then grabbed John’s jumper, pulling him so far forward that they rubbed noses. “So bored, John!”

John struggled back with an overwrought sigh, “And kissing me will help? – Stop reading erotica. Stop trying to kiss me. And just…stop. Full stop – Have you checked the newspaper? Text Lestrade? Checked your emails, instead of mine? Are you sure there isn’t something for you to do other than this madness?”

Sherlock growled in frustration and then jerked John back toward him again, fingers twisting the fabric of John’s jumper until it creaked with strain, “Yes! Do you honestly think I’d willingly be reading porn if I had anything better to do?”

“Well, I don’t know, Sherlock! You’re overly eccentric at the best of times! You do things that make no sense to anyone but you, so I have no idea if you would or would not willingly read bloody porn! – Until today, I didn’t even think you would be interested enough, or bored enough, to do anything concerning porn for such an extended length of time in the first place. You’ve been reading those stupid stories for hours!”

Sherlock frowned at him and leaned his head back a few inches to view John better, unwilling to let John’s jumper go, “I wanted to see the vast number of ways in which people envisage us having sex and—”

“Well, now you have,” John sighed. “So can we please just…put it all aside? Delete that profile. Why did you even create a profile if you’re only viewing the stories today because you’re excessively bored?—You’re doing this just to spite me, aren’t you? This entire thing was to make me feel utterly uncomfortable and annoyed. As always. It’s “frustrate John day” again, isn’t it? You have nothing to do so you think it’s perfectly acceptable to infuriate me.”

Sherlock shrugged and then suddenly pushed his chin and mouth into John’s with a smirk, following when John jerked and struggled to turn his head away, “Just one kiss.”

“No! Are you completely—Sherlock, stop!”

“One kiss isn’t going to turn you gay, John,” Sherlock murmured into John’s skin. “That’s silly talk—Just one. Let’s see how incorrect people are about your kissing techniques. Come on. Humour me.”

John twisted his head up and down and from side to side before he sighed resignedly, unable to stop the twitch of his lips at feeling Sherlock pompous smile, “This is ridiculous—you are ridiculous. And we probably look bloody ridiculous—”

“Hm. Definitely. Now, less talking, more kissing,” Sherlock huffed and tilted his head aside to peck at John chastely. 

“I am not happy about this. How many times have I told you not to experiment on me?”

“It’s not experimentation.”

“Bollocks, it isn’t!” John grumbled, breath rebounding from Sherlock’s face hotly. “And if you think commenting offhandedly about the way I kiss is going to make me—”

Sherlock chuckled deeply and bumped his nose to John’s, “Just kiss me. It’s the only way out of this.”

“I could just hit you and walk away,” John suggested with a grin.

“You kiss your mother.”

“Not on the bloody lips I don’t!”

“You have done. As a child. Everyone has.”

John shoved on Sherlock’s shoulders, going slightly cross-eyed as he tried to focus on Sherlock’s face, “How is that anything like this?”

“It’s platonic. It’s sociable. Shows affection,” Sherlock murmured, lips brushing John’s as he spoke. “Doesn’t it?”

“You are ridiculous.”

“We established that,” Sherlock nodded faintly with his eyes half closed and lazy.

John let out a large rush of breath that only served to moisten and heat the air between them uncomfortably, and gave up with a glance skyward, “Give me strength…” he muttered indignantly and angled his head, merging their mouths together in a short and dry mouthed kiss. 

Sherlock snorted softly when John pulled back, “That was awful.”

“Good.” John glared with a flush of his cheeks and a frown.

“And I mean, just dreadful,” Sherlock continued before he kissed John again with a smirk. “Do you kiss your girlfriends like that? No wonder they leave—”

“They leave because of you,” John retorted, scrambling at Sherlock’s gripping hands with annoyance. “And no, I don’t kiss them like that. I am not kissing you like I kiss them, Sherlock! – You said platonic. That was platonic. That was the most platonic kiss I’ve ever done. It was like a manly hug…but with lips.”

Sherlock laughed with an amused wrinkle of his nose and John grinned, turning to reflexively press their mouths together again briefly, closing his eyes with a flicker of his expression when Sherlock replied with another kiss of his own. 

“I’m not entirely sure I’ve seen you perform a “manly hug,”” Sherlock said lowly, barely moving his mouth as John huffed through his nose and jostled the curls of his fringe. “What does it entail?”

“Shut up. I’ve hugged other blokes before…just not often. I’m not a huge hugger.”

“Unless they’re women.”

“That’s different, mostly because the women I hug are going out with me at the time—but even then I don’t really hug them too much...”

The next kiss was slower and a bit unexpected, and Sherlock’s rumbling titters of laughter trailed off into silence as he returned it and lingered close with their lips still faintly touching. John frowned softly and tilted his head to kiss Sherlock again, but it was suddenly moist and open-mouthed, and John separated their lips with a soft wet sound.

They looked at each other silently for a brief second, and then John surged back tactlessly and delved his hands into Sherlock’s curls, slackening his jaw to deepen the kiss in an instantaneous movement that Sherlock mimicked unconsciously. Sherlock exhaled a gruff sound through his nose and gripped John’s jumper tighter as the kiss intensified and urged them closer together, and John rocked forward on his chair a little to fit their mouths tighter together.

Sherlock breathed hard with a low rumbling sound when John instinctively sucked on his bottom lip and slipped his hands over Sherlock’s scalp, gripping fistfuls of his hair. John tipped Sherlock’s head back and pushed up into him, kissing him rough and passionate with Sherlock’s fingers brushing up against the skin of John’s throat.

As John pulled back to take a shaky breath, Sherlock peered through his lashes at him and smirked carelessly, “That was much better.”

“Um. Right. Though not…not really a kiss that I’d…um…” John muttered trailing off as he stood up from his chair, almost tripping over it in his haste. “Enough of that, now. You…got what you wanted—God why do I always give in to you?”

Sherlock pressed his mouth into a thin line to stifle another smirk and nodded, turning to face the kitchen table and drag his laptop back over, “Now to write it down.”

“Excuse me, what? Oh no! No, no, no! You are not writing that down, Sherlock! -- This ends here and now. No more of those… stories.” John told him as he made a somewhat hurried retreat to the living room with an awkward clearing of his throat. “I mean it.”

“Such a top,” Sherlock uttered under his breath with a quirking smile when John shot him a glare. “Don’t worry. I won’t be half fish in mine.” 

“Sherlock!”

“And you’ll definitely not call me “love,”” Sherlock said as he typed. “Mainly because you didn’t do so during our little make out session—”

John flushed and stomped to the kitchen doorway, “We did not make out.”

“Pretty sure we did.”

John shook his head, “No!”

“And you were very good. Great tongue technique once you got into it,” Sherlock continued as he tucked his chair in. “Could have done with a little less hair pulling though—”

“You liked it,” John scoffed.

“And the lip sucking was…interesting.—Also, you pull a ridiculous face when you—”

“Yeah? Well, you have girl lips!” John retorted childishly, frowning at his own words and then folding his arms when Sherlock arched his eyebrows. “You do. Kind of. They’re plump and—forget it! You have no right to critique me and evaluate my performance. When was the last time you kissed anyone? University? College? High school?”

“What are you saying?” Sherlock scowled, leaning back in his chair with a narrowed gaze.

“I’m saying,” John smirked as he walked over to loom over Sherlock, “that you were terrible. The worst kisser I’ve ever had the misfortune of smacking lips with.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Sherlock raised his head and snorted, “You’re such a liar. And a bad one at that.”

John glared and then tapped Sherlock’s laptop, “You know that story you brought up where someone wrote that you and I compete over who is the sex expert?” he said, leaning cockily against the kitchen table. “Let’s do that, but with kissing.”

“You want to have a competition over—”

“Who the best kisser is, yes,” John said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Obviously—Because you’re bad, Sherlock. Oh-ho, you’re bad!”

Sherlock blinked at him and then turned his attention back to his laptop, “You’re an idiot.”

“Oh? Giving up already?”

“I’m not kissing people, John.”

John frowned, “You kissed me without a care in the world!”

“You’re not people,” Sherlock sighed and shooed John away with a flick of his hand. “Also, I needed to test a theory. -- Now vamoose. I have erotica to write. Go write on your stupid little blog or something equally as mind-numbing.”

John groaned in frustration and returned to the living room, “I have no idea how or why I put up with you.”

“Because you love me. Obviously.”

“Shut up!”

**Author's Note:**

> Also I used ["Winged People Anatomy: Bone Structuve"](http://blue-hearts.deviantart.com/art/Winged-People-Anatomy-Bone-Structure-390427501) by [Blue-Hearts](http://blue-hearts.deviantart.com/) on DeviantArt to sort of aid my way with the whole...what if we had wings, thing.
> 
>  
> 
> Feedback fuels me!


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